Free Family Skeletons by Bobbie O'Keefe Page B

care—oh, there you are.”
    He removed the sheet he’d just replaced. “Look. The
cabinet doors open all right. Kind of squeaky, and it needs cleaning. But it’s
quite a find.”
    “Yeah.” She reached to touch it, then quickly drew
her hand back, thinking about oil from her fingers. “Mavis knows some people
who deal in antiques. We could talk to them about it. I doubt that even Roberta
knew this was up here.”
    “Well, it’s been here long enough it can stay a
little longer. I doubt you and I could get it down by ourselves without
damaging it.”
    The dim, cramped room was growing heavy with the
layers of dust they’d disturbed, and it was getting hard to breathe. “Let’s
call it quits,” she suggested. “And work on sorting what we’ve got. We can get
back up here tomorrow.”
    He clearly wanted to keep going. But she figured
they had enough to keep them busy for the rest of the day, so she bribed him
with tomato sandwiches for lunch. She’d discovered he loved tomato and onion
sandwiches slathered in mayonnaise and covered with salt and pepper. She’d
refrained from inquiring why it was okay to mix onions with tomatoes when it
wasn’t okay to mix them with breakfast potatoes.
    After lunch, they carried the stuff in the upstairs
hall down to the utility room off the kitchen and sorted it there. Though
Jonathan seemed to quickly grow bored, he didn’t grumble, and he stuck with the
job.
    She was also on the bored side. Kneeling on the
floor, she blew a breath out with a weary, resigned sigh, pushed the steamer
trunk she’d just emptied away, and reached behind her for the duffel bag. It
was light, but something clattered when it hit the floor. She unzipped the bag.
It held one item, an ordinary baseball bat. She was beyond wondering why
anything had been saved. Then she looked closer, and recoiled.
    “Uh, Jonathan, that’s...is that...”
    He looked up from a box of old shoes. “Is what?”
    “Blood,” she said, staring at the bat. “It’s got
blood on it.”
    He came over and knelt next to her. “Blood and
hair,” he said, voice subdued.
    * * *
    Tom Fairly looked at the bat, still residing within
the duffel bag, for a long time.
    “Well,” he said. “The lab will tell us for sure, but
I’m gonna be one surprised citizen with a badge if that isn’t human blood and
hair.” He looked at the two citizens who’d brought in the bag. “You didn’t
touch it?”
    “Not the bat,” Sunny said. “But both Jonathan and I
handled the bag and its grip.”
    “But neither of your prints should be on the weapon
itself.”
    She shuddered. Weapon. That’s exactly what it was.
And that was the purpose of the bat she had under her bed as well. Defensive,
but still a weapon. She nodded to Tom, paused, then shook her head, confused as
to which response was correct. He hadn’t actually asked a question.
    “That’s right,” Jonathan said. “Our prints are not
on the bat.”
    “Let’s hope someone’s are.” Tom gave Sunny a look
that held concern.
    “I know,” she said. “The blood and tissue type may
be the same as Franklin’s.” Then she got a thought that made her narrow her
eyes. “Do you have a blood type, anything, for him?”
    The deputy sheriff gave her an absent nod as his
attention returned to the satchel and its contents. “Should be a record from
his stint in the army.”
    “Army?” she echoed, surprised.
    He looked back at her. “Yeah. He got caught in the
draft just a year or so before it ended if I remember right, but he got a
medical waiver. Meniere’s.” He waggled fingers near his right ear. “Something
to do with balance, the inner ear, something. Didn’t bother him much, but it
was enough to keep him out of the military. Both his prints and blood type
should be on file.”
    Sunny nodded, vaguely recalling the information now
that he’d mentioned it. She asked, looking at the bat, “If the lab does find prints,
you’ll want to check them against mine, I